Cadenza
by Ten-Faced
Summary: KaitoxMiku compilation fic. 3: Imperial Grace / An empress does not cry, does not show weakness in front of anyone and makes the choices best for her people. Was she a good empress? There is her Dark Path and her Light Path. Which had she chosen? / Two alternate ends to this story.
1. Puppeteers

**1: Puppeteers**

**Inspiration: **Karakuri Burst and the PV.

**Summary:** He'd play her game, as long as he didn't have to have her blood on his hands. Hinted Rin/Len.

**Genre:** Drama, Friendship, Angst, General, hint of Romance and maybe a dash of Crime and Sci-Fi.

**A/N:** Based on two things; my headcanon that Miku and Kaito knew each other in Karakuri burst and that Rin and Len are projects - genetically modified humans meant to be weapons, hence the AU because Hitoshizuku didn't go down that road. Thus, I own nothing.

**Posted:** 23/02/2013

* * *

He's eighteen and fresh out of public school and she's sixteen and fresh out of wherever she came from and they're both in the Secret Police Academy learning just how to be the most effective person they can possibly be for the government and the Secret Police when they meet as desk mates in the science class.

"Hey," he nods as he puts down his books and his notes. He does not approve of the educational materials in this academy, not for people like him anyways because some people are meant for action in the fields, not desk work. He's definitely a field type of person and as such he does not belong here where brains are superior to brawn.

She gives him a distracted smile as she skims over the text in the books and the writing of the solemn, serious professor on the board. She doesn't take notes like he has to; yet later in the year it is she that gets the highest scores in the class with perfect averages. No errors whatsoever.

The reason she skipped two years, he learns later, is because of her eidetic memory. Useful if you're being groomed to work in the labs.

Well, she's an odd one, with her ever-present reading glasses distorting but not quite hiding the sight of her sharply dreaming eyes and her long teal hair held back with a strange pin, but they are partners for either the unit or the year (the time frame he will call unknown) and he thinks there could be worse things in the world than being partnered up with the genius girl in the class.

They become good friends in the end. She helps him with the blasted science mumbo jumbo, he helps her with her shooting skills and both of them survive.

. . .

Time flies and soon enough they're graduating the academy and officially becoming a part of the Secret Police. He goes right to the sector that keeps justice and last he heard she was in the drug development.

Occasionally, whenever he's reminded of science or that miserable but mandatory time spent in the academics section of the Academy he remembers her, the girl who could remember everything she saw or read.

But he's busy trying to learn how to wield the sword that gives him the authority of the Secret Police, and trying _hard_ to get used to the crisp uniform that seems too formal for someone to fight in, and she remains a memory of someone who sat next to him and helped him out of that hellhole called school.

. . .

There's one way to get up in the Secret Police, and that's by standing out. Doing something. Action, as long as it results in progress and success, is rewarded. Applauded. Rewarded.

There is no need to talk about failures. He has not failed and he doesn't plan on it.

He advances up when he runs into a spy in the Secret Police. He handles it well; he makes sure the mole can't kill his worthless self before he alerts his superiors of this. The traitor is taken away to the chambers where he'll be interrogated for the sake and safety of their citizens.

They praise him. Call him a hero. Brings out his spotless, outstanding records and marvel at just how perfect of a soldier he is.

The higher ups come to a unanimous agreement; he'd make a perfect example. A male, military Cinderella story.

Before he knows it he's a Commander.

At his first meeting as a Commander he sees her again and instantly remembers her. Hard not to forget the glasses trying and failing to hide the dreamy wild eyes thinking of everything and nothing all at the same time, hard to forget that huge amount of teal hair.

She remembers him too and gives her usual dreamy smile and a small wave before taking a seat in one of the spaces reserved for the heads of the drug developments. Of course she remembers. She remembers everything.

It's nice to see a familiar face. The meeting goes by smoothly and everyone there approves of him.

. . .

They get along well. Go out for coffee. Occasional meals when both of them have a spot available in their schedules, which isn't that often but are always memorable. Ten years fly by.

She's good at her job. So young, but nearly taking over the department. Now she's head of drug development, bio-weapons, chemical weapons and genetic enhancement. Two sectors remain not under her lead but she's already in those sectors as a high ranking scientist.

He's good at his job, too. There are whispers of making him Head Commander. The whispers become louder and turn into murmurs when the current Head Commander keeps taking him out with him on missions and outings, and then the word in Headquarters are full out common knowledge by the time they announce his retirement at the assembly.

He only has a polite look on his face as he is called upon the stage and awarded the Head Commander's badge. It's not a surprise, since Head Commander Hiyama has already told him of his plans weeks ago.

They manage to make time and hit a café a few days later where she laughs and claps him on his shoulder over their over-frosted giant red velvet cupcakes. Her way of celebrating.

He doesn't complain. The cupcake is overly sweet with heavy cream cheese frosting and vanilla filling and he eats every last bit.

. . .

Three years after taking the position of Head Commander he's in his office reading the blasted reports that are like mountains of paper on his desk when the alarms start to blare. Not a fire alarm, and certainly not a drill. Something is wrong on a titanic scale in Headquarters right now. "What the Hell is going on?" he demands to his lieutenant who has just run into the room to repot or inform him of the alarms.

"Sir, there's been an uprising," she replies grimly, pushing back her long pink hair. For a split second she is his genius friend that happens to be a girl and he freezes for a micro or nanosecond, whichever one is the shorter time period before he's slapped himself out of that ridiculous daydream. The hair length and color is wrong. So is the uniform.

And Lieutenant Megurine looks nothing like his former classmate.

Her next words, though, makes him pause visibly. "The science department has revolted."

And who was the head of the science department in the Secret Police?

Shades of teal and dreamy eyes flashing in his memories, he gives a curt order for reinforcements as he straps on his sword. There is a reason why traitors are dealt with harshly and that's because the human emotion is capable of changing greatly. Love turns into hate so easily and betrayal never fails to turn.

When the squad of men comes he personally leads them to the building that was once the home of the most brilliant minds in the country, where those brilliant minds are now killing those that were their own.

She's amongst them with one of the projects in her hand – a gun that can be reloaded within seconds and a flick of her thumb. Every shot is fatal, striking down one of his men and making them stay down with their brains blown out through a hole in their heads. Her long hair is dragging in the blood pooling around her feet and the tips are stained reddish brown.

He notices that all her shots are right between the eyes like he once taught her many years ago back when they were barely out of teen ages and can't help but feel a slight brush of pride in his hardened heart as he continues to advance towards her, sword ready in his hand.

She sees him – he knows it and more than once he caught her eye – but she continues to shoot at everyone other than him. She even shoots at one of her scientists when the techie fires a bullet that scratches his cheekbone. He falls to the ground, never to get up again.

"What took you so long?" she asks so casually when he's in hearing distance. He swings down, the uniform as stiff and proper as ever yet now comfortable as he moves. She blocks with the gun and fires – deliberately leading the bullet away from hitting him.

"Paperwork," he answers back. She swings the gun and he barely dodges the blur of heavy metal before swinging down with his sword again. She leaps aside with surprising grace in her ridiculous high heels and short skirt.

"Mm. Well, that's the reason why we," she gestured at the fighting scientists. Over her thin shoulders he sees some of them loading things onto hovercrafts. "Are quitting. We're tired of all this."

"This?" he knows he's going easy on her. She knows too, which is why her answer comes with an easy smile.

"The Secret Police. The system. Everything," she begins to shoot at his feet and he knows that to step into the path of the bullets would ensure his legs being permanently out of commission. He tries to go around the side, but she peppers the ground there with a blast of bullets as she continues to move backwards, heading to the hovercrafts. "But I'm someone who likes games. So let's make a deal."

"A deal?" he raises his voice as he tries to advance.

"A deal," she confirms, not letting him come closer as the distance between them grows. "I'm taking one, and you can have the other. Let's see whose protégé is stronger."

"What are the conditions?" there is no deal without some kind of compensation at the end.

"I don't kill you," she proposes. "And you don't kill me. But those under us have that right."

"Agreed."

She picks up an unconscious blonde – female and dressed in the clothes of a bio-weapon – before giving him a wink and boarding the hovercraft.

. . .

His assigned protégé isn't hard to find; all the other bio-weapons have been either killed or taken and the only one remaining could be a twin to the girl she took, only this one is male. He grits his teeth when he sees the bleeding hole in the place of one eye but he understands that these are the terms he has agreed to.

Anything to keep his hands free of her blood because somewhere along those twenty odd years he might have learned to care, just a bit. Might have. No guarantees.

He gives orders that the boy is to be brought to him when he recovers and leaves the hospital area. Paperwork waits for no one and becomes a bigger pain the longer it is stalled.

. . .

When rumours of a female assassin with hair like spun gold come to his ears he calls the last bio-weapon to him and silently hands him his sword.

The boy is startled out of his usual stoic face and tries to protest but he waves it away and makes him take it. Reports talk of a gun that never runs out of bullets in the hands of the mad assassin and he remembers the rain of bullets that kept him from going after her. He has a good idea of what is in her hands.

The one-eyed boy bows and leaves. He knows that one will die, or they will remember that they once knew each other. Maybe they will remember that they were once something that could have been more.

He is more than aware of the fact that they are still nothing but children, even younger than when he and the genius girl met that one faithful day in a class.

* * *

_But he can't really find it within himself to care about the puppets because he wants to triumph over the other puppeteer._


	2. Twelve Steps to Love

**2: Twelve Steps to Love**

**Inspiration: **Buffy, writer's block on the Blaze Games and Superstars, MapleStory (don't ask), Terrestria (ask), Bonamana (I blame you, Auntie Wishie)

**Summary:** Not love at first sight. Love at some unknown number of sights. It's definitely somewhere between one and twelve, that's for sure.

**Genre:** I dunno, Romance, Friendship, Drama, Fantasy? Maybe Adventure?

**A/N:** Based off this one Buffy comic I read. Despite Miku seeing Kaito twelve times, the time span between the first and last meeting is a month.

**Posted:** 28/03/2013

* * *

When Miku first met Kaito, it was in a lineup. "You'll do," he said when he stopped in front of her, all dressed snazzily in his suit and tie.

.

.

.

Okay, back up. It wasn't what it looked like. See, Miku worked for this organization dedicated to making sure that this one prophecy no one remembered hearing work out like it was supposed to. Their key was a teenage girl named Ring Suzune, the reincarnation or far-descendent or something-like-that for this one Amazon-or-Fey-or-whatever-it-was Queen person who had apparently saved her people by sacrificing herself.

Now this girl was, sadly, famous in the world. That generally happened to one after one flew around in a soccer stadium. Where cameras from everywhere were going live. Without using the basic invisibility spell. While shooting coloured lightning bolts from her hand.

Miku could have gone on and on, but the point was, Ring was famous. But Ring had a mission to do, which she couldn't do when celebrities and politicians and everyone who was someone pretty important wanted to party with her despite the small, minor detail of the _whole damn friggin' world ending around them._

There was also this other thing Ring had to do, where she was supposed to go down to this one place far below the earth and make nice with magic people so they'd have alliances.

She basically had three things to do at once. Even for a special reincarnated person, this was hard.

_This_ was where Miku and the organization she belonged to kicked in. While Ring completed her mission – the most important one that she had been destined to do – Miku and another girl who resembled her would fill her place for the partying and the friend-making.

Kaito, as Ring's boyfriend, was the person who was choosing her stunt doubles. And he had chosen Miku.

Nodding, she left the room and was met with the leader of the whole prophecy organization. Cul tipped her head as she examined her from head to toe. "I think," the redhead said at last. "That you'll do."

And then she was whisked away to some kind of serious glamour room where a stylist named Aria made her over to look more like Ring. Kaito himself left after choosing the second stand-in body double, a girl named Gumi. Because Gumi had a higher score in battle class, she was the one chosen to negotiate with the magic folk in case they proved to be outright hostile.

Miku was chosen to be the public party person.

* * *

The second time she met Kaito she was entering a party when he kissed her. A full make-out kind of kiss with lots of roaming hands and moving tongues, right in full public, with cameras all trained on her – and now, by default, him – and reporters spitting rapid-fire questions at her like a machine gun.

She didn't punch him in the nose or nuts like her brother had told her to because this was all part of the act. Instead, she kissed back.

The hostess – another member of the organization – eventually came out and told them in a good-natured tone that the party was going to end if they didn't come in. Kaito just waved her away, the good actor he was, but eventually the two of them moved into the paparazzi-free mansion.

His hand stayed around her waist the whole duration of the party and her face hurt from the fake smile. Better this than the underground job. Better Ring 2.0 than Ring 3.0.

* * *

The third, fourth, fifth and sixth time she saw him in the fanciest hotel around. They walked in, hand in hand, and the cameras went nuts. In for a Night of Romance and Passion! They declared.

Behind closed curtains they sat in baggy sweats and ate ice cream while watching cheesy action movies. At bedtime he was a gentleman and insisted she take the bed – and no, she did not insist that there was room in the bed for two and she slept alone and perfectly well in the bed all by herself, thank you very much. In the morning they made instant noodles and then left to use separate bathrooms because it was awkward and hard to hold onto the filled and ready to burst bladders within them.

Oh yeah, real romantic and passionate.

But for the first time he called her 'Miku' instead of 'Ring' and she was somewhat happy about that.

* * *

The seventh time was at a beach. She pulled up, driven there by the organization's limo and he drove in, his usual blue sports car attracting almost as many male eyes as he himself drew female eyes and the two of them sat in a sunny spot, rubbing sun tan oil on each other's backs and shoulders and areas that they themselves were perfectly capable of reaching by themselves – but for the sake of the show, the sake of the show.

"What kind of ice cream do you want, Ring?" he asked her and she told him to bring whatever.

He brought her bubblegum and she made herself choke down half of it before smearing some on his nose and starting a food fight.

She made a mental note to specify the ice cream flavour next time. Never bubblegum again.

* * *

The eighth time was at a snazzy restaurant where he got down on his knee and proposed to her with a ring that she would swear had a diamond the size of a strawberry on it.

Despite having gone through the planner and the files and knowing that he had been planning this, that this was all just an act, she still teared up and choked for real as she answered. The real Ring may have been the kind of girl who wanted some kind of sentimental, quiet kind of thing but that didn't attract enough attention and so she'd been allowed to plan out the whole proposal and Miku could pretend, just for a moment, that this was all for her.

Kaito put the ring on her finger, everyone cheered – a woman actually fainted – and balloons began to rain down from the ceiling.

Asking for the rest of the meal to be sent with them on their midnight picnic, the two of them went on a yacht and stuffed themselves.

Miku decided that even if the real Ring hated lobster, she loved the red-shelled crustacean.

* * *

The ninth time they met, it was in the mansion of a politician likely to become president. They were eating cocktail shrimp – Real Ring didn't hate this kind of seafood, apparently – and chatting with the future president and the future first lady when the current minister for something apparently important dashed into the room with runes drawn on his skin. From the looks of it his choice of a medium had been blood. Or ketchup.

"Die, you evil witch!" he pointed in her general direction, frothing at the mouth, and Miku assumed he meant her.

Nothing happened to her. She didn't drop dead or scream in pain, so she assumed that had just been a desperate cry to the universe in hopes that 'Ring' would die.

Shame she was just plain Miku, then.

Kaito stepped forwards when the man tried to stab her with a steak knife and snapped his fingers. Since magic was common knowledge now the partying politicians and influential people didn't form an angry mob to burn the blue-haired man at the stake when vines of light grew from the marble floor to wrap around the minister of whatever, restraining him effectively. They only applauded him for detaining a person that had, until a few minutes ago, been one of them.

The police came in and took the crazy minister away. Feigning stress and exhaustion the two of them left to complain about the organization's crappy job of keeping them safe.

* * *

The tenth time they saw each other the world was about to end. Ring had been cursed into a deep enchanted sleep and the only way to wake her was – get ready for it – with true love's kiss.

Kaito kissed her. She didn't wake up.

When the blonde boy that had followed Ring back stepped up to kiss her, the prophecy girl woke up.

The blue-haired man didn't say anything and left the room.

And Miku – no longer Ring 2.0, no longer Ring, no longer partying and no longer the fake girlfriend/fiancée – hovered awkwardly before fleeing to her room to grab her favourite pole-arm.

* * *

The eleventh time they saw each other he had been impaled by a demon lord's blade and lay dying on the battle field.

She activated a temporary rest force field around them and sat next to him. "Look at me," she ordered, leaning on her pole-arm for balance and support. "Look at me. You're going to make it, alright?"

His blue eyes were dimmed and there was blood trickling from his mouth, but he tried to sit upright. "Venom," he grunted and more blood trickled out. "I . . . ."

"Shh," she said, wishing not for the first time during this war that she had been a better healer. "Save your energy for healing."

"Won't make it," he croaked. "I love you."

Great; he thought she was Ring. Miku could see where the mistake was made – the basic magic glamours that would convince casual lookers that she was Ring hadn't been properly removed and disposed of, the two of them used pole-arms and after all that, she did resemble Ring.

He was dying and he wanted to see the girl he loved. That was the least she could do for him after one of the best month she had ever had in her life – even if, technically, it wasn't 'Miku' who had been having fun. "I love you too," she said in her best Ring-voice, trying not to cry.

"Love you," he repeated. "Miku."

And before she could register his words, before the shock wore off, he slumped and didn't breathe again.

* * *

The twelfth time she saw him he was in a coffin, hands folded across his stomach, eyes closed and dressed in a black suit. She could almost pretend he was asleep, almost pretend that he was breathing faintly like he had back in the hotel during the supposed nights of passion.

And then they buried him and her pretensions came to a stop.


	3. Imperial Grace

**3: Imperial Grace**

**Inspiration: **Maplestory, both the game and comic book. More comic, because the NeinheartxCygnus in it was my inspiration. Also 'Cygnus Garden', which is an awesome song.

**Summary: **An empress does not cry, does not show weakness in front of anyone and makes the choices best for her people. Was she a good empress? There is her Dark Path and her Light Path. Which had she chosen?

**Genre:** Fantasy, maybe Supernatural, Friendship, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort and hopefully Romance.

**A/N:** I don't own anything. The Black Master is pretty much a rip-off of the Black Mage, the storyline is very similar to the comic and so I own nothing. Yeah.

This is also the longest chapter I've ever written, beating the first chapter of Superstars. This chapter also goes through a lot of different writing styles . . . well, at least it'll sound kind of different because Miku, the empress, goes through a lot of psychological strains and sometimes she's not thinking too straight. So sometimes vague, sometimes not.

There's two possible endings, the Path of Light or the Path of Darkness (which is a total rip-off of Luminous, but I already disclaimed). I got the idea after reading I My Me Mine's Present Under the Tossed Aside Tree, Chapter Four. All of you have been warned.

**Posted:** 20/04/2013

* * *

_This is a story about an empress._

_Was she a good empress? The judgement depends on who's talking. She had powers, yes, the ability to connect to her people's hearts and the strength of the powerful empire she ruled over, to channel that through her as a magical energy and she did use it for purposes most deemed good._

_But that is not an answer. Was she a good empress?_

_To judge, one must know her story. One must know and see through her eyes, see her choices as she made them, not through the mouths of another._

_But before we see her side of the story, before we dig into the mind and experience of a woman who holds nearly endless power, let us first know of something, about the enemy. Yes, the enemy, the antagonist of this tale - at least for the first part. _

_Let us start this story with a small look into the past, far before the empress in question was even born._

* * *

Once, back when mortals knew little and had no culture, the Masters ruled the earth.

Some were kind hearted. They taught the mortals how to look into the night sky and see the light rather than the dark.

Some were cruel. They tortured and killed and thought it an amusing sport. There were not many of the cruel ones, and most were disposed of by the kinder ones who favoured and championed the weak, the mortals.

Amongst all the Masters, however, there was one Master who was far more cunning than the rest. He was not the strongest, but his cleverness surpassed the wit of any other Masters. He realized that in order to have control and power, the two things he craved the most, he needed to be the only Master on the earthly plane, where he would be a god.

He hid himself and waited. Eventually all the Masters were called back by their ruling forces, powers greater than them. The humans began to grow with the knowledge they had learnt from the more beneficent Masters, establishing a culture of their own.

He waited until certain mortals began to climb to power before leaving his hiding place. Now, without other Masters, he was the strongest of them all. Now he was a god amongst humans just like he had always dreamed of being.

He wasted no time. Humans fell under his spreading darkness and panicked. They began to fight him back and he chuckled at their attempts, their futile movements much like ones insects made before he smashed them under his thumb. He sat back and played with them all, self-claimed kingdoms and haughty tribes and an empire that was a golden, painted farce of political masquerades . . . .

They feared him. They christened him the Black Master, remembering with fireside stories and traditional legends that once upon a time seemingly omnipotent creatures called Masters had helped them all – and as this being seemed to be as powerfully evil as they had been good, he must have been a fellow Master.

It all amused him and in his pride he never once considered that this constant fear would drive the mortals to fully fight back.

In the middle of his third century striking fear into every heart the empire, the kingdoms and the tribes united and began to resist his own forces. They gathered the brave and pure hearted and trained until they had heroes capable of taking down even corrupt gods.

* * *

The bell rang furiously, summoning the servant with impatient urgency. The poor maid ran as fast as she could without getting tripped up in her own skirts and skidded to a stop before the magnificent double doors of the young lord's chambers. Taking a deep breath and making herself as presentable as possible, she knocked. "You called, milord?" she asked in what she hoped was a bright, obedient voice.

"Come in," Lord Shion's voice came from within, and the maid opened the door to enter.

The blue haired man, not even thirty, lay in his bed under his covers. He should have been in the prime of his youth and yet the nobleman was rarely without headaches, without some sort of ailment bothering him. It was almost as if his frail health was the price he had to pay for being the best tactician the empire had ever seen, and indeed many often whispered that it must be so – for how else would a man achieve the ability to read his opponents' every move so keenly?

The maid gave a low curtsey and kept her head bowed down. In normal circumstances, Lord Shion would tell his servants that one person incapable of moving around as they pleased was far too many, but in the presence of the lady sitting at Lord Shion's bedside the maid did not dare to raise her head in fear of being thought as an impudent wench.

She had a right to fear the lady friend of Lord Shion's; the teal-haired woman sitting with all the elegance and grace of a swan was the empress of this land and the liege of her lord.

"Tea, please," the empress murmured, not raising her voice. "And perhaps some ice cream for Kaito."

Her head still low, the servant left the room.

Once any curious ears were out of hearing distance the empress relaxed and shed the imperial mask she wore. "How do you feel?" she asked worriedly.

Her childhood friend and most trusted advisor coughed some more into his handkerchief. "I've felt better before," he admitted after his small coughing fit. "But it's nothing I can't brush off."

She saw right through his bravado. "Kaito . . . ."

"No, really, I'm good," he smiled at her. "I've finished the battle plans for the Northern Army. Commander Hiyama will be the one leading them, yes?"

The empress bit her lower lip and took the plans he was offering her. "Are you sure you're alright?"

He nodded. "Of course. Not that it matters. I would be glad to sacrifice myself to rid the empire of the menace that is called the Black Master."

"No!" she spoke sharper than she had intended, but she didn't soften her next words. "Don't you _ever_ do that!"

Kaito blinked. "Empress?"

She clenched her fists, entrapping some of the silk from her skirts within her tensed hands. "Don't you ever sacrifice yourself," she clarified.

Her friend paused. "I will not," he said at last. "But only if you would also swear to never sacrifice yourself."

"That, I cannot do. I am the empress, and as empress my duty to my people shall always come first. You have no such binding promises and oaths, Kaito. Promise me that you'll never do such a thing and cherish your life."

Her blue-haired advisor opened his mouth to argue, but another coughing fit replaced any words he may have spoken. By the time he stopped, the maid had returned with all the refreshments she had asked for and the topic was changed to possible steps they could take with the Western Army that was to ally with the Elleris Kingdom.

As they spoke and discussed of possible ways to smooth along the cooperation of their neighbors, the empress made a silent vow to ensure that her friend got through this alive. She _would_ remove the Black Master from power and keep all of her people safe from his evil, not just hold him off like all of her ancestors had done.

* * *

Years after the vow she had taken at her friend's bedside, the empress was proud to say that her goal was nearly achieved; the Black Master was down to his last circle of followers. The empire's army, as well as the armies of all the surrounding countries and tribes had gathered to strike the final blow to the unnatural tyrant that had lived far too long and done far too much.

Naturally, it wasn't going to be that easy. Each and every one of the seven followers still left under the black-hearted being struck down thousands while their leader, the head of the organization, sat back and watched it all happen. All the might of the coalition force of a continent faced them and yet only two followers out of seven had been killed, while their side had four thousand casualties. The number of the wounded were at least triple the number of the dead.

The empress leaned on one arm of her chair in the tent set up for strategy discussions and looked upon her privy council. All members, save Kaito, were present and ready to fight valiantly for they were the knights, the ones with the ability to take on any in the world and still have a chance. While the absent Kaito was her closest friend and staunchest ally in all circumstances, she knew for sure with her heart that all the other knights and members of the council were trustworthy and honest people. There was Piko, the dual-eyed mage who could wield both Divine and Battle magics; Meiko, the legendary swordswoman who had the Sword of the Heavens in her hands; Kiyoteru, the half-demon battle mage who had been the one to kill one of the seven followers single-handedly; Miki, the human who could outshoot an elfin archer; and Longya, the dragon king who had joined their side of the war after his human wife and dragon tribe had been murdered in a bloody massacre orchestrated by the Black Master.

Each and every one of them had sworn their oaths of knighthood to her and were capable of taking on the followers all by themselves – something Kiyoteru had proven with his single-handed destruction of one commander – and yet they were unable to, for the sole reason of the very army that was supposed to be assisting them. The vast combined army had, in fact, assisted them quite well up to this point, but now that there were so few enemies left to fight the staggering numbers were a burden that hindered her council from being able to eliminate the last traces of the Black Master from her people's land.

The simple solution would have been to move the army away, of course, but the problem lay in two separate areas. One dilemma was the other sovereigns who claimed that the empire – and, by default, her – was trying to claim the honour, the glory of striking down the evil being that called and was called the Black Master. Those sovereigns refused to remove their army. Perhaps they would come to agreement after a few thousand more men had been killed, but the empress wished to avoid the unnecessary loss of life.

The other problem was that the army, with its vast numbers, would be extremely _difficult_ to move completely out of the range of attacks. While they retreated, the soldiers would be left open and vulnerable. The empress and the council understood that sometimes sacrifices were a necessity in greater causes, but they were seeking the ideal way of solving their problem. Ridding the world of the Black Master was, after all, ultimately for the people and it wouldn't do to let ten thousand men be wiped out for the lack of a proper plan.

The empress wished her dear childhood friend and skilled tactician was here to offer his wisdom and advice. His health had worsened and the blue-haired nobleman had been forced to stay behind, unable to move around as the army swiftly took land from the Black Master.

The human who was more like an elf pushed her red hair back. "It seems the only solution is to attack outright and hope no innocent soul is hurt by accident," the archer Miki sighed.

Meiko snorted, fully human and very often brash and loud. "Innocents will always get hurt, be it in the final stages of war or at an arena watching athletes compete for a medal."

The empress looked up at that comment. An arena?

Slowly, as her tired knights began to argue about how someone might get hurt within an arena, a plan began to form in her mind. An arena, yes, where the competitors were placed within an enclosed area. Outside of the 'ring', so to speak, the world went on and people were not hurt. At least, not in this one.

What if . . . .

Hesitantly, she suggested the idea to her council. "What about fighting them in an arena of our own?" she suggested. "We could enclose the commanders and the Black Master within a magically created world where we would be free to take them on as we wished. No one outside of the borders would be harmed from the sparks of battle."

All but Piko agreed to the idea instantly. "And who would be the one to create this arena world, Your Imperial Highness?" the mage asked, blinking his dual coloured eyes in curiosity. "Such a spell would require an immense amount of magical energy, not to mention concentration and high skills."

The unsaid 'I cannot create such a world and fight at the same time' was heard by everyone.

She gave a small smile. "That would be me."

The mage bowed his head and said no more on the matter. He acknowledged that the empress, with the inherited power of the Royal Family and the natural magic of the empire was far more than capable of such a feat, something she was grateful for. It may have been an idealistic thought, but she wanted to use the powers of the land and help her people, not cower within palace walls like all of her other predecessors.

In hours, she and her knights had drawn up the plans for setting up the trap, for removing the squads closest to the commanders in order to get the space they needed and for every other detail that required their thoughts, including the timing.

Longya, the king of the dragons who had chosen to become a knight in her empire, commented that the plan had to be executed on the next day and the next day only. "That is when the Black Master will be weakest," the man-form of a great dragon rumbled. "Under the daylight of a summer solstice, when the sun's power is strongest."

It was, her council admitted, a chance that they could not afford to lose. Taking this chance meant that the five warriors all had to retreat and take their rest in order to fully maximize their best chances and opportunities tomorrow.

The empress stayed just a bit longer awake and wrote a letter apologizing to her friend for not consulting him, seeking forgiveness for being unable to take the time to wait for him. She didn't particularly see any need for the letter, as her task was extraordinarily simple, but she supposed it was just fancy stirring her wish to write this. Things carefree people in romance novels did to add drama to their lives, which really weren't as complicated as they tried to make it out to be.

She tucked the piece of parchment away in an envelope and went to sleep.

The next morning, in the light of the sun, as the minions of the Black Master fought for their lives the six of them made their way through their gathered forces to reach the center of the conflict.

Five figures, all cloaked from head to toe in black cloth, fought with their unholy magic. They shot dozens of dark lights that sharpened and pierced through torsos, waved their hands and sapped the soldiers of all the liquid within their bodies, burned far too many alive with a careless flicker of their fingers and did much more, more than what a moral human being should have been capable of doing to another fellow human.

But then again, these were not humans.

In the middle of the rough circle formed by his five remaining followers, the Black Master sat on a throne of skulls and bones, watching the battle going on around him with eyes hidden behind a black hood. It was obvious just where his commanders had gotten their dress code for all black garments, just as obvious as the mask and dark hood he wore to hide his face.

The empress clenched her hands into fists and began to call upon the land, the empire's deep and seemingly infinite strength composed of its people – the poor, the rich, the fathers, the daughters, the nobles, the prisoners – and sent a prayer to the gods she hoped would be on their side.

"Now," she muttered and only those in her immediate vicinity heard her over the sounds of screaming, dying men, of clashing swords and ripping armours.

Miki aimed her empty bow into the air and drew it back, loading it with a bolt of her energy. She released it into the sky and it flew up, a spirit ascending into the heavens in appearance.

Piko shot two quick bolts of magic from his staff after her and both of them struck the energy arrow Miki had shot. The combined blasts resulted in a large, colourful explosion fifty feet above their heads, resembling a head of a dandelion flower with all the soft, fluffy seeds still attached to the otherwise bare head, the signal that every man fighting had been told was the emergency retreat signal.

At the large fire flower suspended in the air, the soldiers capable of magic shot forward everything they had, all at once, and then hastily began to stumble backwards, racing to get out of the way. A few of the injured were trampled and killed at once, noticeable only by the empress with her senses enhanced to her people's well-beings.

Seizing the chance when the commanders were temporarily dazed by the brave attempts of the army – dazed meaning not attacking for a crucial few seconds, not dropping their barriers – the empress called upon all the power she could and wrapped her council and the black menace to her people with it. Now they could fight on even grounds without fearing for the lives of unfortunate coincidental victims. Now there were five against five.

The empress blinked, just as she was about to finalize the spell that would let no one but her council exit the spelled world she had nearly completed. Five against five? The numbers of lives she counted within the made-up world were eleven. Five plus five was ten, not eleven.

A cold sweat ran down her spine. They had forgotten to count the Black Master into their plans. With the unforeseen addition, she could feel their carefully but hastily constructed plan about to fall into pieces. This was not fair at all. She had created a plan that would send her council of knights to their deaths.

Five against Six. Not fair at all.

A memory flashed in her mind's eyes, of blue hair and eyes and a chiding voice laughing softly at a mistake she had made while playing chess. _"You gave up your king when you made that move,"_ she remembered her tactician telling her. _"A mistake that will take down your kingdom."_

At the time she had laughed and told him that she had an empire and therefore no need for a mere kingdom but now it was not a game played on a board of black and white squares but a gamble with her knights' lives, her empire, _her_ own life at stake. If the Black Master survived this he would return and extract his vengeance by sevenfold upon them all, from the royal families to the innocent children to the men who had risked everything to fight for what they believed in to the women who had gone against tradition to challenge the evil.

Five against six. That wasn't fair, but six against six, yes, _that_ was fair.

'Forgive me, Kaito,' she thought as she threw herself into the world, knowing her friend would not approve of the rash move she was making in the hopes of turning the game around to their favour, hoping that it was not yet checkmate for this game that had so much depending on its outcome. Once she was within the magical arena she had woven out of the magic of her empire, she sealed it with the final spell before bracing herself. She could take the first spell and then she'd be able to construct a barrier around herself to protect her body from any damages.

No expected attack came. She hastily wrapped herself with a Guard Spell before glancing at her assumed opponent.

The Black Master did not attack her. In fact, he still sat in his throne of bones, seemingly content with watching his commanders fight the members of her council.

Confused – perhaps five against six had been fair after all? – the empress turned to look for who to assist. What she saw shocked her.

All five of them were struggling and on the defense, being pushed back and to their very limits as they desperately fought not for their ground but for their survival. But how?

She narrowed her eyes and saw the trail of magic coming from each of the five followers of the Black Master. Each trail was providing them with power like an umbilical cord would do for a baby.

No, just helping one would not be enough.

Crossing her legs, the empress sat on the sand like a girl and began to weave another spell, much like the one the Black Master had at the moment – only her spells focused on using light magic, the good magic of her people based around the love she had for them and the support they had for her – and began to act as the mother for the five babes fighting for not only their original intents of revenge, peace and prosperity, but also their lives.

She opened her heart to them.

* * *

Tired, stiff, cold, sore . . . .

With a roar the dragon ripped the head of a commander off – and good heavens, when had the king changed back to his original draconian form? – before stomping on the headless body until there was nothing but a large red stain and scraps of flesh sticking to the claws of the enormous dragon and bellowing in triumph.

Sometime later the redheaded archer shot one final arrow through the eye of her foe and the black-garbed thing collapsed onto the ground, onto its knees, screaming and shouting because it had gotten all its healing spells shattered and its guard, its protection was nothing now when the archer shot about a hundred more of her arrows, crafted out of her magical powers into the kneeling, keeling thing and it fell with a thump onto the ground, falling silent and still.

The last three who still had an opponent began to struggle because their opponents had received a much larger surge of backup from their master. Their healing sped up, their shields held stronger and their attacks were fiercer.

The dragon fought with the swordswoman, assisting her fight to hack away at its shields and occasionally taking hits for her. The elf-like human shot arrows, hitting the commander the mage was fighting. The empress sent the half-demon extra energy.

The empress was tired. The darkness was leaking from the Black Master and she was shielding everyone else from the cold, numbing feelings it brought on – yet her extended shields meant that she felt it all too easily.

She was so tired . . . .

The half-demon shredded the follower he'd been fighting and turned to aid his allies, eyes glinting with the dark blood of his demonic father.

* * *

The last follower of the threat that had been there for as long as history could remember fell to the light mage's powerful burst of magic, mouth open in a silent scream of pain and disbelief.

The empress blinked. Had she fallen asleep? But no, she remembered witnessing every last event of the battle. It was just that she was in a stupor, that was all.

Was this it? Was it their victory?

_No._

Slow claps rang in the air. Her five council members turned towards the source of the sarcastic applause, determined looks in their eyes.

_Not yet._

The empress only blinked. So close, so close . . . .

She had no need to turn, for she had been facing the Black Master when she had taken her seat in the sand and begun to provide the brave heroes with all the magic she could send them.

The Black Master rose from his throne of bones and pulled back his hood and removed his mask with a bone-white hand.

All her senses screamed. Her tiredness vanished as if she'd been held under ice cold water and slapped awake from a deep sleep.

The face under that hood, under the skull-like mask was Kaito's.

* * *

It was impossible. Kaito Shion had been her friend for as long as she could remember, the one fixture in a life of false glimmering gold, political double talks, counterfeit smiles and flimsy alliances, the rock she had clung to for strength, the anchor that had held her firm.

It was impossible for him to be the Black Master.

Wasn't it?

A shadow of doubt crept into her heart, despite her efforts to not believe what was obviously a trap – what _had_ to be a trap.

She looked at the others, the heroes she had provided with all the energy of her empire and her people and her heart sank at their equally shocked, shattered looks. They had known Kaito, too, known him and his amazing plans, his ability to read anyone. He and his ability to make anyone, _everyone_ trust him had been the reason the loner half-demon Kiyoteru had joined their cause, the reason why the dragon king Longya who had lost his wife and his people had joined their empire and thrown in his lot with theirs, had sworn fealty to her.

The face of her best friend – it couldn't be him, could it? – smiled down at them with bitterness, pale skin surrounded by black cloth that moved like shadows. "Surprised?" the counterfeit – it had to be a counterfeit, she wouldn't be able to bear it if what she was seeing was real – said with Kaito's voice. "But surely you must have suspected. Haven't you ever wondered how a young, sick man could always know just where and when the enemy's army would strike? How such a young man would be so wise, so calm, so controlled . . . ."

Letting out a strangled sound and losing self-control, Miki shot three arrows in rapid succession in the way only she and the elves could. A barrier formed of a black aura wavered into sight as the bolts of light struck at different points on the shield. All three shattered before even reaching their target.

"You may not have thought of this," he continued to speak and the empress wanted to curl up into a ball and hide in a safe corner or in her bed, under pretty silk sheets and wait until someone came and held her hand and told her it was alright.

She might have curled up into a ball if she had still been a princess.

"But suspicions, ah, those are always there, are they not? Always, the shadow of doubt, never letting one's soul go, filling one's heart with the taint of doubt until one is no longer able to remain rational, driven to paranoia by all the possibilities . . . ."

His voice – Kaito's voice – was soft and hypnotic, which was why she couldn't listen to it. If she listened she would believe what he was saying, just like she had always believed what Kaito had told her without thinking. It was more than just a habit, it was a reflex and if she didn't fight as much as she could she would believe his words, every last one of them even if she knew better than that.

Right now, whether it was true or not, she couldn't believe the Black Master's words.

"And you knew it would be your fault, a permanent taint upon the name of the glorious empire. You sought to end me in the hopes that no one would know – when you yourselves were ignorant of the true knowledge."

Her numbness was returning, as was the lethargic state of her mind. Was this world, the one she had created to ensure that no one would be killed in the final battle filled with _darkness_? How odd, she had woven it with the magic of her empire, of her people, the magic of love and hope and dreams.

In her numb state one shining beacon, a goal that had to be completed no matter what lay, a lighthouse guiding her confused mind to one place, one final heroic, heartbreaking action.

She was, after all, an empress – and empresses protected their people no matter what the consequences were.

Dimly, in her memories, a talk she had had with the man who she thought to be Kaito – no proof, the man could be a liar, the Black Master was evil – about sacrifices and how he was to never do that, but to live on and cherish life.

The empress supposed she was a hypocrite – but then again, weren't all rulers?

She gathered every last bit of her magic. For her empire. For her people. For her memory of Kaito, a laughing boy with the frail beauty of one who considered all life precious.

The empress hurled the magic at the Black Master, the white light roaring like the flames of the heavens as it flew . . .

And struck true. The Black Master was illuminated, a black smear within an orb of heavenly judgement and all she could see was a round, gaping hole where the mouth was supposed to be and not Kaito's face-

The fire burnt out. The empress collapsed onto her knees. The Black Master's burnt body disintegrated into ashes before being blown away.

The world she had created unwove itself, having filled its purpose. She bit back the tears and composed the straightest face of all, for an empress could never show neither weakness nor what emotions she truly felt. Her imperial mask on, she bid Kaito goodbye and felt a part of her heart die. Whether the Black Master had been Kaito or not, she had still killed him and all she would ever remember of him was that he had had Kaito's face.

* * *

How odd.

The Black Master's Last Stand had been made in a desert in the Southern parts of her empire's lands. The desert had been a vast, fierce land where life could barely live in between the extreme temperatures, the lack of food and the raging sandstorms that visited monthly, rearranging everything.

When the empress opened her eyes she was met with the sight of a lush farmland. Animals grazed in fields, bountiful crops nearly snapped in two under heavy weight and everywhere she looked there was green.

What had happened?

Her companions seemed just as confused as she was. Constantly, they tugged at their hair and pointed at each other, whispering uncertainly and talking about how there was a disturbance.

It took her some time to realize this, but when the empress looked, _really_ looked and saw her companions, she realized that their hair had all grown significantly darker.

When she ran a finger through her own teal locks she found that half of them had turned black.

* * *

It was three days after they had defeated the Black Master, three days after her artificial world had disintegrated that someone came along, dressed in clothes of a far different style than theirs. The man was a kind-hearted one who was more than willing to talk, though his words rang with the qualities of a madman's.

The farmer had to be a madman, he had to be, because if he was telling the truth . . . .

If he was telling the truth, the six of them had been gone for five hundred years.

But the more they thought about it, the more it made sense. The major change, the disturbances, the subtle differences in the air and water . . . .

She wanted to cry, but she held her head high, tossed the hair that was now definitely had more black strands than teal and suggested returning to the palace. Records were kept by the Imperial Library, and she wanted to go home.

Piko opened a portal with a wave of his staff – and really, since when had his eyes been red and purple? She could have sworn they had been blue and green, like the endless skies and lush forests . . . .

They stepped into the swirling purple and red portal.

* * *

No.

No, no, no!

NO!

The empress stared at the throne with horror in her eyes. Was she still the empress? She had not died nor abdicated her position, and yet there was another woman sitting in the throne of the empire, wearing the crown and holding the scepter.

She _was_ still the empress, right?

The blond woman sitting in the throne like she belonged there – because she was to not accept this travesty she decided to think of the blonde as the pretender – reeked of the dark magic that she had grown all too familiar to after spending a long time – apparently five hundred years – blocking the influence of the Black Master from reaching her council members, her heroes, the brave ones she had linked to herself with the magic of her people.

This pretender was a follower of the Black Master, or a descendent who believed and supported the thoughts of the evil being. Everything she had done – breaking her heart by killing the image of her best friend, losing the chance of fulfilling her duty, finding herself in a new lifetime – had been all to support the Black Master in the end. Without an empress, without a direct descendent of the Hatsune Family the rulers had failed to connect and resonate with the land, the hearts of the people.

She had left the empire without its proper ruler.

What had she done?

The empress closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek, breaking through her control. When the drop of hot, salty water had dropped off the edge of her chin and fallen onto the rim of her dress, she opened them again.

She had to set things right. Amend her mistakes.

Calling to the land – and taking immense satisfaction in the response she received as she felt the earth's magic flow into her – the empress gathered the magic and summoned the divine justice to this pretender.

The blonde died screaming in pain, but it wasn't white light that burnt the witch to death; it was dark magic.

The empress wasn't sure if she cared, and a glance behind her told her that her faithful attendants, her brave ones, her dear ones, all she had left didn't care either.

Her hair had only a few strands of teal left. Passing the Hall of Mirrors with her parade of returned heroes following her, the empress noted that her teal eyes had been changed into red.

"All hail the empress," she said aloud. "For she and the brave warriors have returned."

* * *

She sat in her garden amongst the flowers she recognized and sang songs because she felt like she could, now that the Black Master was dead and she didn't have to keep up energy ties or a shield for all five of her dear ones anymore.

Occasionally, a few self-claimed 'heroes' tried to attack her. They never made it past her dear ones and she watched them die screaming while she absent-mindedly plucked petals off of blossoms. Did she have a job to go and cleanse her empire of evil? Yes . . . and yet she could not move for she felt as if she was ill, as if two separate forces were sapping all her energy by fighting within her for supremacy. Until one side won she would not have the will to stop singing and move out of the garden.

The empress counted the strands of teal she had left and thought that she could have remembered all the numbers on one hand – it looked odd, because the colours did not quite match up well.

Miki shot dark bolts into statues frozen in silly poses, Kiyoteru and Longya wrestled, Meiko slept and Piko sat under a willow tree.

The empress sang because she could and she wanted to.

* * *

One day two people came to them, venturing into the Imperial Garden that had been changed to suit them.

Miki's arrows did not hit them; when they flew close enough they veered off from the two and flew elsewhere, hitting objects which weren't as fun as hitting live, moving creatures.

Piko lazily flicked a few fireballs, but did not try anything else when it failed to kill them painfully.

They didn't attack. They started to talk, letting their words of misunderstandings and shames and bitterness and ungratefulness fall onto their bored ears. The man and the woman spoke about vengeance and the short high it brought, the crash, the never-ending feeling of craving more yet never getting it.

The empress found them extremely boring, but watched further when the female laid down a scroll and began to chant.

"Should we kill them?" Kiyoteru asked, but otherwise did not make a movement. It was alright, for if she was in danger her loved ones would protect her, just as she had protected them when . . . when . . .

She could not remember when. All she knew was that once she had protected them with a shield and put herself at risk for them, for her loved dear ones.

"No, let us watch," she replied. "Would it not be amusing?"

"Perhaps," her half-demon commander replied and maybe he would have said more but much like a distant memory she could not recall, his next words were never heard by her as the female's chants rose into a high-pitched wail and the scroll burst into a pillar of burning white-hot fire, golden and pale and heating up until it was completely white –

The empress averted her eyes, closing them to shield them from the burning light. When the light bright as the sun extinguished itself and the back of her eyelids did not sear an angry red anymore she opened them again.

Where the scroll had been laid out a man stood, dressed in clothes she found familiar, robes of silk and linen embroidered with stitches telling the observer that the person who wore these were of a high status.

The empress found herself looking at the face the Black Master had worn when she had wrought divine fire and brought it down upon the bitter, eternal creature.

"Empress," what looked and sounded and even smelt like Kaito held out a hand, giving a soft smile that was really his smile, the one she remembered seeing on his face when he wasn't feeling particularly ill. "It's been a long time."

* * *

"No," she shook her head. At that moment there was only her and him. "No, no, no!"

"Empress. . . ."

"You . . ." she gulped a breath of shaking air down but her lungs still screamed for more air and she felt light-headed. "You can't be Kaito."

"You are partially correct, Empress."

What? She looked at him. This Kaito, like the Black Master Kaito, did not cough or show illness, no weak body or frail health. This Kaito stood strong and tall and graceful and elegant.

This Kaito did not make his way over to her to bow, to kneel at her feet and kiss her hand like he did in the presence of others. He did not leave the circle of light around his feet to come closer to her where it would be easy to win her over like he always did with his subtle expression changes, his cryptic jokes and his ability to make anyone trust him.

But he was not trying to convince her of his authenticity like the Black Master and that confused her.

"My original body has long since rotted away," her tactician look-alike – five hundred years, it couldn't be him – "but my soul has remained sealed away so that in the future, when you and your knights had defeated the Black Master I could come and assist you."

She laughed and felt some more of the insanity in her heart slip deeper. "Assist me?" she nearly shrieked because the thought of him, wise as he was, helping her and her dear ones was quite odd and rather ridiculous. "How? There is no _war_ anymore, tactician!"

"There is also no place for us," he said softly. "You were a great empress, Your Imperial Majesty, but even you were mortal and had a time to die. The world that you created to fight the Black Master in had been too empty. It filled with his excessive, tainting darkness and changed your souls. Look at yourselves!"

Behind her back her knights were murmuring uneasily. They held their grounds, but she could sense their nervousness. "Then by your words, tactician," she said coolly but not as harshly as before. "We are damned."

"No," he shook his head. "Look at yourselves. There is still hope, still a chance to be changed back and turned to the light."

Against her will the empress glanced down and saw a few strands of teal hair. "How?" she whispered – she had killed one Kaito-lookalike and knew enough of the pain to know that she wouldn't be able to do it again. "You said we had no place in this world now."

Her childhood friend's soul gave her a soft smile and stepped slightly to the side, revealing a bright white patch of light. "It is a new world," he said. "One where you can be happy again and smile and laugh again like you used to when you were a young princess. Where sadness does not exist and tears are useless.

"All you have to do is step into the circle, empress."

* * *

**The Path of Darkness**

* * *

Kaito held his breath, hand extended towards the darkened woman that was his liege lord. His soul had taken on the face he had had when his heart had died but not his body – when his empress had created a world and sealed herself off with the ancient evil for her people. He himself had died a few years later, when a new ruler had been elected and peace had been achieved for the empire.

Before his death he had refused to accept that the world would never see the brave empress and her knights again. He had consulted many great mages to seal his soul in a spell that would one day allow him to be there for his empress when she completed her mission.

All that time, spent fighting the darkness . . . .

His friends and more specifically, the woman that he served who loved beauty, goodness and light more than anything in the world did not deserve that. They deserved every last part of paradise and more.

"Let me take you away from the suffering, milady."

For a moment he thought, really thought that she would take his offer and come to the world where none of them would suffer, the utopia he had created for her and her knights.

Then her hair turned completely black and she shook her head. "I must do my duty to my people," she said. "I must let my people know that their empress has returned. They must bow down to me."

His hand fell to his side as her knights, the brave and kind souls he had known and talked with often centuries ago snarled and howled their delight like mindless animals at the idea of oppressing the people they would have once sacrificed everything for. The inner struggle between their original light and invading darkness was finished, but it had not been resolved in the way he had predicted.

"I bid you good-bye when I destroyed the Black Master," his empress smiled at him and it wasn't her usual strong, imperial smile or her childish, carefree one; it was one of insanity and darkness and hunger. "and I bid you adieu now, dear friend."

Then the six of them were gone, whirling away in a tornado of gray and black and darkness, laughing madly as they began to destroy everything in their sight and path.

The two mages who had unsealed him looked upon the destruction with horror in their eyes. "What do we do now?" the man asked him, clearly terrified.

Kaito wished he had a perfect strategy for the man, for the empire, but the truth was . . . "I don't know," he said for the first time in his life.

_~The empress was eventually stopped, she died laughing with tears in her eyes~_

**FIN**

* * *

**The Path of Light**

* * *

Kaito held his breath, hand extended towards the darkened woman that was his liege lord. His soul had taken on the face he had had when his heart had died but not his body – when his empress had created a world and sealed herself off with the ancient evil for her people. He himself had died a few years later, when a new ruler had been elected and peace had been achieved for the empire.

Before his death he had refused to accept that the world would never see the brave empress and her knights again. He had consulted many great mages to seal his soul in a spell that would one day allow himself to be there for his empress when she completed her mission.

All that time, spent fighting the darkness . . . .

His friends and more specifically, the woman that he served who loved beauty, goodness and light more than anything in the world did not deserve that. They deserved every last part of paradise and more.

"Let me take you away from the suffering, milady."

He didn't know what path the woman would take – as the tactician, he knew best that there was always the other possibility, no matter how slim. Should she choose to embrace the darkness within her, he would lose her for the second time – this time forever.

Kaito blinked when tears began to fall down the woman's face. One joined another and soon her eyes were shedding torrent rivers of tears, violent streams of held-back, pent up emotion, not just from the regret she must have been feeling as she fought back the darkness that had crept into her heart but also all the sorrows and pain she had hidden from back when she was a young girl, when she had become the empress and was supposed to be more than just an ordinary human who could feel.

Empress Miku reached out and took his hand. A healing light, white and pure, fell over her and her knights, washing all the taint's traces from them. In front of his eyes the empress regained her former teal hair and aquamarine eyes.

"Let me take you to a world without sorrow," he promised.

The knights entered the portal first, looking glad at both their chances for redemption and a world where they could belong. The empress gave him a kiss before pulling him into the portal.

_~And we all lived happily ever after~_

* * *

_Bias? Dear reader, every viewpoint is biased. What you may have heard of the Mad Empress Miku who supposedly gained immortality and wreaked havoc on her former empire five hundred years after her reign . . . well, is that not a biased tale you speak of?_

_Bias? Dear reader, I have never given you my opinion, and I believe that means I have not done my duty as tactician - tacticians, after all, offer their professional opinions on the situation._

_But perhaps I am not a tactician, not anymore. Perhaps I am just a man who has been in love with an unattainable woman for far too long and would do anything to make her smile forever, to keep her happy even if that means making her abandon her people and her duty._

_Perhaps I, too, wish for a happy ending._

_So make up your opinions, now that you know both sides of the story. It matters not to us which side you choose._

_We are happy._

**FIN**


End file.
